The Sacrifice of One
by InnocentGuilt
Summary: Takes off DIRECTLY after 'The Hard Part'. Peter couldn't honestly have expected her to shoot the gun. Well, then there's no one left to really save New York City. No one but him. Slash, Spoilers, Angst, oneshot...whaterver you feel like.


"Claire!"

Her hazel eyes snapped to her newly found uncle, who she found was beginning to glow a strange color. She knew she had a gun in her hand for a reason, and it felt heavy against her palm, but looking at her uncle, her Peter, she knew there was no way at all. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as her dad (not father, not Nathan) held her shoulder and Ted stared at Peter beyond confused as to what was going on.

"Claire! It's happening!" He yelled at her, his terribly open eyes.

Tears sprung to her eyes, as she palmed the gun in her coat, shaking her head. "Peter…no."

For a moment he looked grateful, one more moment, but his eyes turned to betrayal as he looked to his glowing hands, and around the street. She knew he was looking at the people, she knew he'd kill if no one did anything. Still, the sacrifice of one to save many…it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth it looking at Peter.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill her uncle who seemed the only one who loved to keep her around. If he was taking out New York City, well, there went a good percentage of the pollution problem in the upper states. She mildly thought about her dad, and her father's election. How furious Mrs. Petrelli would be when her and her son came back to where ever she was and told her of how they had purposely met the man who would give Peter his ability to explode.

The glow spread up his arms and Peter looked almost ready to cry. Briefly, Claire saw a pipe materialize suddenly, poised in the air above Peter's head. She would've yelled out to him, but the glowing seemed to be growing, and they both became entranced in the light, around him.

But the pipe was brought down with deadly accuracy to he base of his neck, and Peter fell back into rapidly materializing arms, his eyes rolling back into his head before Claire's eyes.

"Peter!"

She ran forward, clutching his face in her hands, before looking up at the, honestly, very ominous looking scruffy man, who had literally stepped out of thin air in front of her, holding her uncle, staring down at the man with obvious show of distaste.

"Bloody American!"

&$&$&$&$&$&

"What did you do to him?" She demanded of the Englishman before her.

He had no interest in answering her, laying Peter down on the couch in Peter's apartment, which she had no clue as to how he had gotten the key too. She didn't even think Peter's mother had the key here. He walked deeper into the apartment, seeking out a cloth, then to the sink for cold water. Claire followed him in there, hoping that her mere presence would scare him into talking to her, but no luck.

Her dad had followed the two of them in there. Parkman and Ted had both opted to stay outside so that when Peter awoke he wouldn't go nuclear again. He glared at the Englishman the entire time, from the building, in front of which the man had appeared, to here, where the man was bustling around the apartment as if he had lived here. "Claude! Answer her." He growled, and finally the man looked up from the sink to meet someone's eyes.

It took her a moment to realize her dad had spoken the man's name, which meant he obviously knew him, and should have dome something to help Peter, besides letting him get bludgeoned by a steel pipe. She stared at her dad; he still stared at…Claude, was it? "You know him?" She asked angrily, wondering why he had allowed this stranger to knock the only good thing that had happened to her in the better part of a year.

"Yes, I know him." Mr. Bennett said, his eyes never leaving Claude's face.

Claude had no care whether her dad glared at him or not. Mr. Bennett wasn't his father, and in fact he felt rather a bitter bile raising on his tongue. The resentment having never, honestly wore off and having been: "Shot me twice he did."

Her dad automatically rolled his eyes, exasperatedly, opening his mouth the reply something to the fact that at least he was still alive, but Claire's wide, and shocked eyes turned to him. She knew he had worked at that odd government thing, but she could believe that he actually had it in him to shoot someone. No matter how sincerely crude the person was. "You shot him?" She asked, unbelievingly.

"Claire." Her father began to reason with her.

"Twice." Claude interrupted, while sidestepping the growing argument to go lull Peter into a false sense of security. If he could keep the two occupied he would have enough time to beat Peter for his stupidity before the girl came after him with a blood god damn knife. "Didn't have it in him to actually hit my heart though. Both sides. God dammit, bloody well hurt too." He called over his shoulder, noticing it took a moment for them to start following him again and when they did Mr. Bennett started it.

Claire stared at her father in awe. "I can't believe you shot him."

"Claire…" He warned.

"You don't believe it? Wanna see?" He asked, leaning down over Peter's form to press the freezing cold rag to his head.

He smirked when he heard Mr. Bennett say, "No, she doesn't want to see!" in a vehement voice, turning Claire away from Claude to begin talking to her rationally.

Bet before they could get wrapped up in their own conversation, the man on the couch stirred, grabbing Claude's hand which held a cold rag to his forehead, and keeping it close to his face, which felt like it was on fire. "Why are you all yelling?" Peter groaned. Feeling a throbbing force at the back of his head. He tried to remember what had happened. He had gone with Claire to meet Ted, he absorbed to much power far too quickly…he

Claude's face washed over with relief, his hand throwing the rag away to touch Peter's face with his cold hands. Momentarily, Peter leaned into the familiar touch, feeling comfort wash through him, before he was smacked hard, leaving a resounding crack in the room.

Claire's attention was immediately on Peter.

Peter up and scrambled to the other side of the couch clutching the left side of his face and glaring a Claude. "What the fuck was that for?" He yelled, rubbing his jaw, with a small pout.

Claude raised his finger, pointing at Peter as he tried to stand, wobbling on two legs before the Englishman. "Didn't I tell ye to control your bloody powers?" He asked with barely controlled rage.

Peter stared at him stupidly, his mouth hinging open somewhat in unbelievable awe. When he had enough of his wits about him, he dropped his hand from his face, his eyes shuttering closed, before anyone could read what was happening in him mind. "Yeah. I think I remember you saying something to the effect of 'nice knowing ya' on your way out too." He spat, glaring at Claude, who seemed mildly shocked at bitter tone of the man before him.

Shock passed, however, and he reeled back against Peter, "So, to mock me you just bloody well let yourself explode?" He smirked without humor. "I could've left a bloody five year old and gotten better results."

"No. I didn't. I went to meet him. That's all I did. I didn't expect to absorb his energy so rapidly. I couldn't control it."

"Control it? You didn't even try."

"I was overcome. What did you expect?" Peter stomped, beginning to pace the living all the while glaring daggers at Claude.

"I expected you to be a little more conscious about blowing up a fucking city." Claude said taking a step towards him.

The brunette pulled on his hair. "I was…" He screamed.

"Were you?" He asked, disbelievingly.

Peter looked at Claire, whose hand still palmed the gun. Claude spun too, his eyes searching her for the answers he needed. She didn't do anything for moments on end, Claude looked back at Peter angrily, and Claire was so sure he would hit him again that she yelled. "Look!" She demanded, startling both of them into looking at her. She pulled the gun out of her coat and dropped it on the table as if it had burned her, tears coursing down her face at the argument.

Her dad looked at her in awe. "Claire."

"I was supposed to shoot him." Claire sobbed. "Through the back of the head, so the bullet would lodge into his brain and he couldn't regenerate."

It didn't help the situation. Claude snapped his attention back to Peter, and her dad took her into a hug, damn near dragging her away from the growing storm but not too far as she couldn't see what was going on. She sobbed harshly as Claude rushed up to Peter, grabbing his dark brown hair and forcing him closer to the gun.

"That was it? That was you master plan?" He growled, shaking Peter by his hair. "Having a little girl blow your brains out all over the sidewalk?"

Claire couldn't help but hiccup when she realized just how weak she felt when Claude called her little girl.

"It was better than whatever you had planned." Peter bit, forcing Claude's hand off of him and stomping across the room, well out of harms way. "At least I didn't run off like a coward when the going got rough. I was prepared to take what was coming to me."

"Nothing was coming to you Peter! You tried to get a girl to shoot you. You should've known."

"Known what? That she couldn't do it. Yeah, I shoulda, but I couldn't help but hope. I couldn't help but hope someone would be there to pull the trigger."

"Death has become a real treat for you, hasn't it?" Claude said viciously, digging for a way under Peter's skin. He wasn't quite prepared for what Peter said next.

"What's the sacrifice of one compared to millions?"

Claude looked so enraged, his mouth curled into a sneer, and his eyes blazing with passion. He seemed to be shaking, and when he grabbed Peter by the shirt Claire could see the fabric shake in his hand. He pulled Peter closer, like he was going to growl something into Peter's ear, but in the end he just looked too disgusted and pushed Peter away, making him trip over his coffee table and hit his head on the couch behind him.

Claude left the apartment and when Claire went to follow him, to tell him something, anything, to get him to stay because she felt as if Peter was somehow depending on him, she found nothing, not even a shadow. So instead she went back to Peter, who seemed to be enjoying his position between his table and his couch.

&$&$&$&$&$&

Claire was still up when Claude suddenly became tangible in the kitchen light behind the living room. It was midnight, and her dad had left with Ted and Parkman, not offering once to take her with them, thankfully, but kissing her forehead and telling her that he loved her. He paid her no never mind, only heading to the other side of the apartment where she knew there was a closed door and a ribbon of light shining below the door.

Light splashed across the floor as the door to the room opened, then the light receded as the door was pushed towards closing, only to stop inches away from it's frame. Claire knew she shouldn't but curiosity bested her, and she headed away from the television and her cartoons to listen in on the conversation inside his room. Sitting down to where she could see Peter's bed, and Peter himself sitting Indian style. Claude was nowhere to be seen, but he was the master at that, as she had heard Peter mumbling to herself sometime after the Englishman had left the apartment.

"Come to beg for my forgiveness?" He asked, pouring over his drawing intently. He spared no passing glance to any direction in the room, indicating to where Claude would be.

"Why would I do that Peter?" She heard the bodiless reply from directly where she saw Peter.

"Uh…you just kind of got mad and left." Peter sneered. He looked to be thoughtful on something very intriguing, looking into thin air. "I think that must be your signature. Leaving." He snapped his book shut and stood up, looking intent to leave the talking air.

"Don't start this shit. I've been through it enough; I don't need an overemotional man giving me a lecture about my leaving." Claude growled pushing Peter back onto his bed, becoming visible when he touched Peter's skin. "Now look, I left for perfectly good reasons."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you got scared."

"I didn't." The Englishman protested.

"You did."

"I was caught." Claude pointed out, petulantly. "And for perfectly good reasons, namely I know what they do to people like us, I left." He looked pointedly into Peter's eyes, daring him to say otherwise.

Peter didn't argue. He brought up another point. "You left me to take the fall for you though." 

"You weren't caught, so I don't see how it's such a big deal." He said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Claude…"

"And I came back! Didn't I?" He said, throwing his hands in the air as if it were a great achievement. "I'm here now in front of you, right? Saved you from prematurely bursting into flame?"

"Claude…please." Peter said, rubbing his forehead.

"Will you let me speak?"

"No."

Claude went to say something, maybe demanding that the little sod pay attention to him, but whatever it was, it was drown out by Peter, who had grabbed hold of Claude's trench and brought the elder man down on top of him. The blonde man braced himself above Peter, fervently kissing the man below him as much as he was being kissed. Hands went places Claire never thought any man would dare wonder on another man's body. So, silently she left from the view leaving her uncle in the arms of a man who had knocked him out not even half a day ago.

She sat back down on the couch, her arms folded over her chest as she listened to the television, and the occasional moan, which she pretended she couldn't hear. Later, when she would go to get a glass of water she would see that they were still awake, damp, and tired. She would see Claude on his back with Peter halfway laying over him. She would try not to listen, but the conversation…

"We don't have that much time."

Peter frowned. "I know."

Claude smirked triumphantly. "You don't seem all chipper about it anymore."

"It doesn't seem that appealing." He admitted, grabbing the older man's arm.

"Never does when you've got something to look forward to."

For the next day and a half, they wouldn't cry, nor would they hold hands. They didn't smile at one another, nor kiss, nor fight again. For the next day they stayed outside all day and most of the night, training Peter. Whatever Election Day held, they wouldn't be caught unawares.

And there would be no willing sacrifice.

$&$&$&$&$&$&$

A/N: I love this pairing and was kinda PO'ed when Claude up and ran away, but they left that scene open at the end of 'The Hard Part.' And I was like CLAUDE! Maybe he could come and save the day. Do something good for a freaking change! So there you have it. My hopes and dreams for the next epi. And I love the familial aspect of Claire and Peter living together, because they're all each other's heroes, and it's cute. So Claire was mixed up in there.

And I tried, but I SOOOO think Claude was OOC. I'm so sad. I really did try to keep him in character. **pouts**

I hope you enjoyed this, and even if you didn't, or want to ask that I fix something wrong with this story, please review me!

_InnocentGuilt_


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